


One Try

by platinumtrickster



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound, Mother 3
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Gen, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtrickster/pseuds/platinumtrickster
Summary: When the Dark Dragon awakens, she decides to grant Porky Minch, Nowhere Island's greatest enemy, one last try.  With newly acquired mortality and now sent back in time to the era he originally came from, adjusting to normal life again will be the hardest thing he's had to do in millennia.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	One Try

…ONE TRY–

Porky’s eyes slowly open, almost stubbornly trying to stay shut. Everything is blurry and a soft white at first, till the world finally starts to come back into focus. All that’s above him is off-white popcorn ceiling, and the sun’s morning light peering through the slits in the blinds, resting comfortably on the wall. His hands are set on his stomach, over the covers. He stretches, then freezes.

He looks at the ceiling again. Off-white. Popcorn-patterned. Light’s still there. But that’s not right, that’s not–

He turns his head to the side. Across the room, Picky is sleeping in his bed, turned to face the wall, curled up like some odd little creature. He sits up abruptly– _sits up_?– and stares down at his hands, which moved instinctively to prop him up. He shifts to sit up straighter and slowly brings his hands forward and just. Moves them. Stretches them. Feels them. Then he feels his legs. Stretches his legs. Moves them around a little till he’s sitting cross-legged in bed.

It’s inexplicable. Truly and utterly unexplainable, and incomprehensible, and confusing, and overwhelming and– everything else he could possibly think of if his mind wasn’t racing. He slides a hand through his shaggy bangs, then carefully peels the covers back and climbs out of bed. He stands, really stands, and stays in his spot for a long minute or two. His knees tremble a little at the anticipation of carrying his frame for the first time in– in– he doesn’t _know_ , doesn’t know if that was a dream or what.

But he has to move. He has to see himself. So, wobbling and uncertain because it’s been far too long since he’s _walked_ , he stumbles out of the bedroom and into the hall. He trips over his own feet and slams into the wall, but he ignores this, barely comprehends that it even happened, because all he can think of is getting to the bathroom and looking in the mirror and seeing himself, _himself_ , to see what’s become of him.

Porky steadies himself on the counter, hands gripping it tightly till his knuckles turn white, and he stares into the mirror and he’s greeted with himself, but… he feels his eyes, no bags. He feels his skin all over, no wrinkles. No facial hair– no white hair either, just a healthy, sunny blond. His skin peachy instead of off-color blueish-grey. Teeth, his own, planted squarely in his pink gums. His body… it doesn’t hurt. His joints and limbs and everything all work. His lungs don’t hurt with each exhale.

He’d have called every memory from before a dream, but he’s still got that white suit on. It’s all wrinkled from his bed, but he doesn’t even really notice that, just the fact that he’s wearing it at all. Porky feels the fabric over gently, fingertips running across his lapels, then moves to wring his hands together in deeply uncomfortable thought. This had to be the dream, this moment right now. Even if he’s surprised he remembers what he used to look like. Even if he’s surprised to remember what it felt like for his body to work right, too.

Slowly shaking his head, Porky is shrinking away from his reflection, hanging his head as he exits the bathroom, turning back to his bedroom only to be faced with– with Picky. He forgot how fucking small Picky was; scrawny, short, skinny, and currently standing perfectly agape at this sight, which Porky mirrors unintentionally. His jaw trembles because he wants, _needs_ , to speak but he can’t think of words or how to talk anymore.

Lucky for his sibling, Picky remembers his voice and screams, “Mom! Come quick! _Mom_!”

Porky winces at the loud sound, cracking that perfect silence they’d had previously. He’s frozen in place and his mind is quickly blanking entirely, but that trembling of his body remains. He’s shaking like a leaf, and Picky is trying to tell him something, but Porky just can’t understand any of it, till his mother’s voice cuts through the growing static in his ears with that irritable, disinterested voice.

“What are you screaming bloody fucking murder about, Pick–” she says before she stops herself.

They’re all like statues, standing in the hall, for moments that drag on for what feels like eternity. It only then occurs to Porky that he’s been holding his breath, and exhales out and starts to breath sharp, shallow breaths, though he does not cough and he does not gasp desperately for air. That seems to snap Lardna out of her trance and allows her to speak again. She’s dashing forward and rests her hands on his shoulders to look him over, like to confirm that he was real.

What surprises him are those tears in her eyes despite her absolutely perplexed expression dominating any apparent grief within her. Lardna feels over his face and her long nails poke at his skin, but he doesn’t move an inch. She moves her hands back to his shoulders and grips them hard, squeezing them till it aches. “Where the _hell_ have you been?” she asks in a harshly whispered voice. “What–”

“Lardna?” That voice is completely unfamiliar, as is the face attached to it, as a dark-haired man steps out of his mother’s bedroom. He stares at the strange scene before him before turning to Lardna. “What’s…”

Lardna spins around, letting go of Porky finally, and scrambles back to where the man is. “Where’s Aloysius’ number? We have to call him–” In the commotion the man approaches Porky and asks him, “Wait, are you Pokey?” while Picky tries to push him away with a “Don’t crowd him!” And his brother is back to trying to talk to Pokey, his mouth running a million miles a minute. He can hear his mother searching for that number, and then her shrill, hurried voice of “It’s him! You have to come down here!”

Porky blacks out.

* * *

He’s coming to in the living room, sitting up on the couch like he’d be conscious getting there. His dad is sitting in front of him, just… studying Porky. Lardna is in the middle of talking and none of them seem to notice that he’d been out at all. They’re all bombarding him with questions– well, not Picky, who’s still trying to get everyone to back off.

“…I think he’s in shock or something,” he hears Picky say. “I think we– I don’t know. Do we need to call someone?”

“Maybe we should take him to a doctor,” Aloysius suggests uncertainly.

Lardna chimes in, “A _psychologist_ would be better.”

“He might just need rest,” suggests the black-haired man.

Aloysius is bristling at that. “John, he’s obviously not well. He’s been gone for _months_ and he _needs_ –”

Porky drags himself to his feet. Too much. It’s too much. Everyone’s attention is drawn to him again and Lardna half-rises from her spot. “Pokey…”

“Let’s hear what Pokey thinks,” Aloysius says. “Well? What do you think?”

Porky just stares. “…about what?” he finally asks, voice gravelly and feeling unused.

“About taking you to a _doctor_ , Pokey.”

“I just… I need air–”

Picky springs off of the couch. “Let me come with, I can keep an eye on him–”

Lardna shakes her head but no one objects, so all three adults stand and watch Porky and Picky at the front door as the two wander through the yard. The sun is warm on his skin and the grass is nice. At one point he just sits down cross-legged in the grass, leaning up against the white picket fence. Picky joins him, and for once is not rushing to speak. He has his hands resting on his knees, and although he doesn’t talk, he can’t keep his eyes off of Porky.

Of course Porky can’t tell his parents anything. They’ll never believe him. But Picky knows much more than they do. He’s seen Porky before– if only once or twice, he can’t really remember how many times– since he ran away, but never had any closure. He doesn’t know what’s happening, let alone how to explain anything, yet Porky tries. His mouth is parted for a long time, and then he finally wets his lips and speaks.

“Picky… I don’t know what’s happened here. I don’t know how I got here.”

“No…?” Picky replies worriedly.

Porky shakes his head, mouth in the shape of a fine line because of the strange lump forming in his throat. He’s upset… he’s _really_ upset about this? “I’m not supposed to be here, Picky. I’m not– I’m not supposed to be–” He’s staring at his open palms as he says this. They shake the more he speaks, till he finally just buries his face in his hands. His fingertips claw at his scalp, tearing at the roots of his hair too.

No, no, no, this is all wrong, all wrong, all…

* * *

 _Wrong_ , and Porky is back in his house again, curled up on his bed. Lardna is on the phone, and he can barely make out what she says, but…

“It’s just so shocking that Pokey would show up after all this time. Oh, the poor thing is traumatized! I’d let little Ness come over, but…”

Ness, that’s right. Ness.

_Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness…_

Ness. Porky throws himself out of bed.

“Pokey, are you feeling any better?” comes Picky’s little voice, but Porky ignores it and he’s practically running down the stairs and he can hear his brother coming after him, but all that commotion is nothing to him because the thing he’s wanted most is right next door. He’ll get it, finally, finally, after all this time.

He’s pounding on the door with that obnoxious knock of his, never forgotten despite how long it’s been. Porky hears Ness’ mother shout “Just a moment, please!” but it’s Ness who answers the door. That apparently ghostly apparition of his friend on the doorstep leaves Ness just as shocked as everyone else that’s seen him today. A shaky grin forms on Porky’s face and he grabs hold of one of Ness’ hands in both of his and squeezes it.

“I… I’ve been waiting forever.” His voice is emotional and still scratchy and trembling. “I couldn’t keep waiting for you to find me. Something delivered me here. Something–”

“Pokey! Don’t run off like that!”

That disruption from Picky gives Ness enough chance to tear his hand away from Porky. Picky, in the meantime, is trying to pull Porky away, mixed in with apologies to Ness.

_Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness, Ness…_

When he steps backward, Porky loses his footing and his head slams into the concrete below and everything is black again.

* * *

**ONE TRY.**

**YOU GET ONE TRY.**

Glimmering pure white eyes as wide as moons peer down at Porky, and they have all the seeming of being more massive than his entire body. Everything else in the scene is drowned out by darkness. Porky’s experienced dreams like this many times before, but the creature addressing him… it is different. All he knows for sure is that he feels completely insignificant before such a massive creature.

When Porky tries to move his limbs, he can’t, and then– his body is back in its older, decrepit form, painful, weak, useless. He struggles to move, but there’s nothing he can do. He whimpers, but the creature silences him with a dangerous flash of its eyes.

**ONE TRY.**

**DO THIS LIFE OVER AGAIN THE WAY IT WAS INTENDED.**

**BUT DO NOT INTERPRET THIS AS A KINDNESS. ALLOWING YOU TO CONTINUE ON WAS MERELY A WASTE OF SPACE FOR ALL.**

**DO NOT DESTROY. DO NOT HARM. DO NOT MAIM. LIVE WITH YOUR CONSEQUENCES AND LIVE WITH WHAT YOU’RE GIVEN.**

**BE SATISFIED WITH THAT.**

“But why? I was happy as I was–”

**NO. YOU DO NOT GET A SAY IN THIS.**

**PURIFYING THE EARTH MEANS REMOVING ALL OF ITS TOXINS. THAT INCLUDES YOU.**

**THINK OF THIS AS A MEANS OF STARTING OVER. DO NOT RUIN THIS FOR YOURSELF.**

**GOODBYE. I WILL HOPE OUR PATHS NEVER CROSS AGAIN FOR AS LONG AS BOTH OF US MAY LIVE.**

As quickly as it came, the eyes blink out of existence, and then there is nothing for a while.

* * *

“…sounds like it could be related to trauma– or really, it could just be that he’s overwhelmed? We’ll have to observe him more to determine…”

Porky blinks back into consciousness, the bright and starchy emergency room lights blinding him for a moment. Lardna is suddenly by his bedside. Her hands rest on her hips. Despite her appearance of the _concerned mother_ , he can tell she’s pissed off that they had to come here for him. Not even a day into coming back and he’s already a nuisance again, huh?

“You gave us quite the scare,” she says blandly, running a few fingers through Pokey’s hair. “What happened, baby?”

“Passed out.”

“Well, _yes_ , but–”

“I _passed out_.”

A frustrated huff. “Yes, we get that. Well, are you feeling okay?”

“Where’s Ness?”

Lardna purses her lips and taps her nails on the hospital bed railing. She seems to think for a moment, then shrugs and turns away. A few moments later, Ness is there to replace his mother, and Porky’s eyes light up at the sight. He pulls himself up so he’s sitting, and gestures for Ness to sit down, too.

“Let’s talk, hm? I should think you’re very confused by all of this, perhaps more than the others because you know so much more than they do. You’re special. You’re not an _idiot_ ,” Porky purrs with a smile.

Ness frowns. “You sound different. The bump on your head add a thesaurus to your brain or something?”

“I’ve spoken like this for a long time,” Porky replies, his smile fading a little. He tilts his head. “I take that you don’t like it.”

“No, no, it’s just– it’s different.”

“Most of me is. I can’t consider myself Pokey Minch anymore, really. Times have changed, Ness, and so have I.”

Ness doesn’t respond. He just watches Porky, like he’s trying to discover some hidden meaning in both his face and his words. The blond is patient in this, and hugs his knees to his chest, and uses his hand to rest his face. The room is bland, so he never takes his eyes off of his former best friend. His face is no longer filled with that kindness he knows so well… just confusion and _hurt_ and worry.

Onett’s great hero has greatest reason to worry since Porky tried to destroy him before he went missing, but he wanted to tell Ness that he really meant no harm now. Really, he didn’t. After a long moment, Ness slowly begins to nod, a new, determined look in his eye.

“All right, Pokey–”

“ _Porky_.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Porky, if you’ll call me anything at all.”

Another stare. “Okay. Porky. I’ll listen to you. If you have anything important to say, you can say it now.”

Finally, the one person who matters most will listen to him. But where to start…? Hm, how about…

“Once, there was an island,” Porky begins, “called Nowhere. And on Nowhere, there was a young family. Two happy parents and twin brothers for children, identical aside from their hair color– one blond, one red. Once, someone like me came there– no, was thrown there by whatever powers that be to suffer a punishment for what he’d done. Once, he decided to make this tiny island a place to call home. Once, he decided to ruin it when he learned the terrible secret of humanity. But that someone couldn’t move. Who could he use to fulfill this purpose of purifying destruction…?

“Once, someone stole the red twin away. And we ruined his life. We ruined his family’s life and everyone person on Nowhere’s life. And when the brother couldn’t take it anymore, he ended his life. We ruined not just his life. We ruined _him_. The very soul he bore was tainted, poisoned by us. Such as it is. What I touch becomes tainted.”

“Porky, I don’t see why you have to make things up. I’m _listening_ , dude, I’m _listening_ , so please–”

“Once, I ruined an entire island's way of life. Once, I came back here and abandoned Picky and left him here to die. Once, I became so sick and frail I never walked again.”

There’s this dawning look of discomfort and horror on Ness’ face. “Porky…”

“Once, I tried to bring end times. Many times I tried to die. Once, I became immortal. Once… _Ness_. Look at me. Ness. Look.”

Ness won’t look him in the eye now, and that frustrates him. He’s been entirely patient till now, but this he can’t stand for. After all this, his friend won’t even look at him. A strange anger starts to bubble up in him, till his face transforms almost grotesquely to rage and he leans forward towards Ness to snarl at him.

“Look, Ness, _look at me_!” He finally listens, and with what seems like a sense of indignance, he looks to Porky. “You think that after all this time, you might give me a shred of fucking attention? Don’t you care at all? You said you would listen, so listen to me when I speak to you. I’m telling you something _important_ , Ness.”

“What’s important?” Ness snaps back.

Porky pauses, then leans in to whisper, “Something gave me one more try here, Ness. I- I think she took my immortality.” Ness has this look on his face that makes Porky add, “You don’t believe any of this, do you?” He turns his eyes away again. “Of course not… Very well then. You’re free to go.” He gestures for the other to leave and himself looks away.

All he hears is a soft, defeated sigh, and the sound of Ness standing up. So this is how it’ll be, now?

What a waste.

* * *

“Did you do okay on the math test?”

“No. Got a 20.”

“Damn, dude. Didn’t you study?”

“Of course not. I don’t ever study. It’s not like any of it really matters in the long run.”

Even though they’re not friends, they still walk home from school together. It’s kind of hard not to considering their being neighbors, so they have to walk together lest they try and awkwardly avoid each other every day. They’d rather avoid that, so Porky and Ness just make small talk and pretend like nothing is wrong, even though it’s clear that there’s much for them to discuss. They’re just never ready.

“Well, any plans this weekend, Ness?”

A hesitation and Ness clearly holds his breath. “Oh… uh, my friends are coming over.”

“The _hero_ ones?”

“…yeah.”

Porky sees Ness’ hero friends at his house pretty often. Not just the girl, but the foreign kids, too, and he gets a little jealous. So he still has time for them but not for him. It’s disgusting. All this wasted time pining for Ness and now Ness won’t even give him the time of day. He sighs softly, and turns to his former friend. “Think there’s any room for one more?”

“I… really don’t think that’s a good idea, Porky.”

“Not even worth trying?” Ness thinks about it. “Come on. Ness. Please.” More silence. “I need this more than anything. I think things can only become better if I’m given the chance to actually try.”

“You have to promise not to start shit.”

“On God’s honor, Ness.”

He’ll only speak the truth; that may fall under “starting shit,” but it’s a whole different breed than him saying hurtful things just for the sake of it. Porky doesn’t play that kind of game anymore, really– doesn’t have time for it. Besides, he honestly does want to meet these kids again. They’ve probably heard so much about him from Ness, yet they can’t possibly understand what he’s been through. Not truly.

Porky will right that wrong. And he will make everything right for himself once again. So the two shake on their agreement, and Porky tells his mother, and all she has is snide comments and aggressive feelings of relief.

“ _Finally_ , you’ll be out of my hair,” she remarks while washing the dishes. “About time you became friends with that brat again. What took you so long?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Then why are you going?”

“I want us to be friends again. But I don’t think he understands me yet.”

“ _No one_ understands you, Pokey. Now get going so me and John can have some time together. Take Picky with you; he’s supposed to play with Tracy anyways.”

Porky packs quickly. He only needs a few things; if he requires anything else, he can just come home. He packs for Picky, too, and drags the two of them out as fast as he can. On the way out, John Prettyman says with his bright, friendly attitude, “Have a fun night, boys!” Porky ignores him while Picky thanks him.

Ness doesn’t look exactly thrilled when Porky knocks on his door, but he wasn’t expecting him to be anyhow. This is a true kindness allowing him anywhere near his hero friends, so that’s what he’ll take. He hasn’t thought about any of them in a long, long time, and he’s ready to make a new impression on them, though he’s sure that they’ve already written him off entirely. That’s perfectly fine. He’ll just have to try harder.

When Porky steps inside, Ness’ friends are already there and _bristling_ at the sight of Porky’s appearance. Picky is gone upstairs with Tracy, while Porky drops his bag on the floor and shoots Ness’ friends a smile before he takes one of the chairs in Ness’ living room to sit down in. He gestures broadly, like he’s daring them to say something to him, but the dangerous look Ness gives him stops Porky. He taps his fingers on the armrests, scratching at the fabric with his nails, feeling it over absentmindedly.

“I can’t say the last time we were all in the same room was really very _pleasant_ ,” Porky says, “but I have hopes that this may be different, eh, Ness?” No reply. Porky looks back to Ness’ companions instead. “Ah, that’s your vote of confidence there. Well, thank you for letting me be here today. I know it must be hard for you–”

“Porky.” Porky’s voice halts and he looks to the side to see Ness. The other gives him another look and all Porky does for a moment is look back and forth between Ness and his companions. He sits up straighter and looks directly towards– ah, yes– the nerd one. They have such a special connection, don’t they? He’s probably still wondering all about it, though he doesn’t seem to betray that feeling here.

Jeff was always kind of hard to read, though. He tries to be a tough young man, for a soft brat raised in a prestigious, soft boarding school. He smiles with a brightness at him. “Jeff Andonuts,” he says with false warmth. “How have you been?”

Jeff knits his eyebrows, obviously attempting to piece together just what Porky is trying to do already. “Well… thank you.” Those last two words spoken are strained. Even a mere formality is hard for him to speak when he’s around one of his greatest enemies– and Porky is more than willing to admit that he’s made enemies out of all of them.

“Do you miss your father, Jeff?”

A twitch in his eyebrows, the only indication of his anger. “Why do you ask?”

“I wonder where he is. Must be _nowhere_ , I think.” Pause. “Not rotting in the ground, but trapped, like being buried alive with no way out but with less urgency.”

“You know where he is.”

Raises his own eyebrows, tilts his head with a sickening smirk. “Do I?”

Jeff tenses. His shoulders tighten and Porky watches him clench his fists. “You do, you–”

“Porky, _stop_.”

Porky, without tearing his gaze away from Jeff, replies to Ness, “Oh, Ness, don’t you think Jeff deserves to know the truth?” Dead silence. “But I doubt you’d find it believable anyways. I guess I’ll leave it be for _your comfort_.” He smiles pleasantly, closed-mouth and ugly.

“No, I–” Jeff stops himself and seems to reconsider– “…no, I want to hear this. Even though I bet you’ll just be lying to me anyhow.”

“Ah, how nice. I can’t wait for you all not to believe me. But what I’ll say is true. I promised I’d only ever be honest again. Swear on my life.” He watches the faces of everyone in silence. No one is stopping him this time. He shrugs then, readjusts himself in his seat, and speaks again. “Well, then. Once, there was an island called Nowhere–” He can already tell Ness is getting frustrated. Porky giggles and rolls his eyes. “And when I was on that island– I get the feeling you think this is a metaphor. I assure you it’s not–”

“Just get on with it, Minch,” Jeff growls.

“Aggressive. Still sore about everything, Jeff? Where was I… well, I’m not really a tech-y person, you know, and no one there knew anything about it either. And I was too sick to learn myself anyways, so I wondered, who do I know that’s good with technology?” He looks to Jeff, prompting him to say something, but he doesn’t speak. “Well, Dr. Andonuts, of course. So I borrowed him.”

“ _Where is he?_ ”

Those last words delivered by Jeff are hardly a whisper. He’s struck a nerve with Jeff, and he knows it, and everyone knows it, too. What is he supposed to tell Jeff, anyhow, without it seeming like he’s rubbing it all in? Perhaps they’re already well past that, and he’s not one to exactly care about other people’s feelings anyways. He’s aware that Jeff will never like him, nor forgive him, especially now.

Who cares anyways? They’ll all just die and that row will be forgotten.

“On the island still, I presume,” is Porky’s simple reply.

“ _Where?_ ”

“Jeff, it’s not a place you just go to. You end up there one way or another. Besides, he’s not of this time anymore. You’d have to do much more than you’re anticipating. I don’t even know the time where this all occurs anyways. It’s one of those _great mysteries_ , as it were. I think it was supposed to be my final resting place, but plans changed. I was immortal there, but now…”

“You weren’t immortal, Porky,” Ness interrupts.

“Oh, but I was– perhaps still am. I can test it–”

“I think we’ve all had enough, dude. I’m sorry. You gotta leave, Porky.”

Porky makes no attempt to get up or heed Ness’ demand at all. “I don’t think Jeff is yet satisfied with–”

“ _Out_.” Ness’ voice cracks a little, like he’s _hurt_ by all of this somehow. Perhaps embarrassed, sad for his friends that Porky made miserable? But it’s more sad than angry, because Porky was expecting the latter far, far more. Porky stands up slowly, and it’s both Ness and his friend, that awful prince, that escort him to the door with his things.

Porky stops at the front door, only to turn back to where Jeff and Paula are still seated. “Jeff, you don’t want him back anyways,” he calls. “You won’t like to hear about the things he’s done. He did it all happily, Jeff, he–”

The door is shut in his face. Porky just stands there, stands there for far too long. Ness re-opens the door and adds, “Porky, leave.”

Porky swallows, then nods. “Of course. Go upstairs and look out your bedroom window in a second here for me, would you?”

Ness appears as if he has something to ask, but Porky turns around and marches straight back to his house. He passes Lardna in the kitchen, who irritably inquires about something stupid as usual, but he doesn’t listen, just ignores it and climbs the stairs to his bedroom. Out his window, he can see Ness’ house, and Ness’ window, and Ness, too, who actually listened to him.

Porky opens his window and feels the screen that’s between him and the rest of the world. He stands on a chair, kicks the screen out out with his foot, waves to Ness, and jumps out.

The cracked white bone looks nice sticking out of his leg like that. It makes him feel a little dizzy to look at it somehow. Ness is bent over him, tears in his eyes, like he’s actually upset about all of this. If he’s thinking of healing him with his PSI, Ness has another thing coming. His PSI doesn’t fucking fix broken bones, nor does Porky even really want that kind of help. He shoves Ness away and somehow manages to sit up, though pain tears through his spine as he does so.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists, but Ness and a couple others– he brought his friends and called Porky’s family over too– hold him down. “It’ll heal on its own time, it’s–”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Lardna hisses. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?”

* * *

She’s right, as much as that stings his ego. Always something. Always.

Things are different, but that somehow makes it all so much worse. Ness is weirdly nice to him sometimes, though they still aren’t friends in Porky’s mind. Yet he for some reason tries to make an effort to spend actual time with Porky, but this time it’s him who’s turning his friend down. They still walk home from school together but it’s in dead silence usually unless Porky decides to respond to what Ness says.

Most of what he says just feels like background noise anyways, so he’s ignoring it like he’d ignore passing cars or birds tweeting. The first thing that gets his attention is when Ness asks, “Hey, how’s your leg?”

It still aches and is a little weak, but it’s not the worse pain he’s ever felt, far from it. If only Ness could understand what he’s gone through, he would learn not to ask stupid, pointless questions like that. Still, he supposes this warrants a response if anything, if only because Ness is asking about him directly. Trying to be “nice” again, he supposes. Porky just shrugs.

“It could be worse. But it’s probably fine– I could climb a tree if I wanted.”

“I don’t think you should yet, dude,” Ness replies with a slight tinge of anxiety. “You don’t wanna hurt it while it’s still healing.”

Porky grins and waves his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. Here, I’ll show you… just watch this. I’ll be careful, promise.”

Ness is on his heels when Porky picks out a nice, strong oak tree to climb. His knee aches when he bends it to start his climb, but he doesn’t betray that pain to his friend, who’s watching ever-so carefully in case he gets hurt. He keeps repeating “Be careful, dude, be careful” like it’s some kind of spell to keep Porky safe from harm. He just snorts and rolls his eyes and continues on anyways.

Each time he slips, he’s sure Ness winces and cringes from anxiety and he repeats those words again, till he himself is starting to climb up into the tree, just to be extra careful with Porky, perhaps. But that only inspires him to climb up faster and faster till he actually reaches the top of the tree. It’s under a power line, which Porky doesn’t even notice until Ness mentions it to be.

“Be careful, dude,” he repeats yet again, “the power line’s right there. I heard some kid almost died when he touched the lines there.”

“Oh yeah?”

Porky smiles to Ness, then looks up to the power lines and electrical box just above his head. Almost died, huh… almost… He inches up more and more to improve his height, and starts to stretch his arm out towards the lines, and he hears Ness screaming but it’s like background noise and then there’s just total blackness.

* * *

“It’s like he doesn’t even want to live,” Aloysius complains. “I mean, what’s the point, right? If he doesn’t want to–”

“ _Dad_ , he’s awake.” Picky is closest to Porky at his bedside. He leans over the rails nervously at looks Porky over. “You okay, Pokey?”

Porky blinks slowly. Oh God, his body hurts. “I… what happened?”

“You hit a power line and got electrocuted. You–”

Aloysius jumps in without waiting for Picky to finish. “Well, congrats, Pokey. You managed to be Onett’s first case of resurrection.”

Porky blinks again, then registers it, and widens his eyes. “What?”

“You were dead for two minutes!” Picky exclaims. “But they brought you back! D… Did you _feel_ dead, Pokey?”

"Don't say shit like that, Picky," Aloysius scolds, though clearly half-hearted, as if he too was curious to hear the answer to that question.

“I was dead.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Dead_.”

Picky nods. “Dead for sure.”

There’s a silence that falls over the hospital room, over his entire family for once. He thinks about it over and over– dead, he was dead, he died, he… he can die. He _can_ die. And he starts to laugh despite it. This ugly, twisted smile crosses his expression and he chokes out the laughter with difficulty as it intensifies to hysterical laughter. He feels tears on his face, streaming down. No one makes a move, just watches in horror.

Every time it gets brought up, Porky starts to laugh and cry and so everyone tries not to mention his death again, but when they don’t, he does. It’s become his favorite thing to talk about while he’s recovering, his absolute favorite. His family may try to steer the conversation away from it, but it won’t stop him. They can’t stop him.

Ness can’t either, but at least he’s honest about being terrified of what Porky might do every time the matter of his death comes up. He appreciates that. Everyone else just tries to pretend like nothing is wrong, and he cannot stand that. He doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t shy away from the subject like so many others. He treats it with the same abjectly horrifying fascination he once treated eternity with.

“I wish I could remember what it was like,” Porky hums sadly, propping his chin up with his hand. He’s been out of the hospital for a couple days now, but his injured hand is useless. Of course he had to use his dominant hand. It’ll be out of commission for months. “It just felt like sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Ness replies. He only agrees noncommittally, but Porky will happily willfully ignore that until his friend directly tells him to stop.

“You don’t even want to know how many times I tried to kill myself. It wouldn't work. I kept just waking up again. Over and over. No matter what I did.” Pause and a tense silence. “I shot myself, once–”

“ _Please_ , stop.”

“What? It’s not like you even believe me anyways.”

“I _do_ believe you, I do–”

“No, you don’t. I know you think I’m making all of this up, for some reason, and that’s fine. But pretending like you do is just disingenuous.”

Ness glares at him, but there’s tears in his eyes that betray how he really feels. They’re supposed to be friends now and yet they still can never seem to understand each other. They won’t talk, won’t acknowledge any elephant in the room. It’s no way to live– and that’s the stupid, petty nature of humans, isn’t it? Disgusting.

He liked being god-like, as miserable as it was, truly.

“I just… I don’t understand,” Ness whines, wiping his tears away. “Everything you say doesn’t make sense.”

“I can explain, but it’ll take all night. I don’t know if I’m interested in telling you all that only for you to go back to not believing me.”

“I’ll believe you, I promise.”

…Despite how he knows he shouldn’t, Porky tells him everything. Everything he can possibly remember about the past… ten thousand years or so. He almost feels distant from that identity, too. He’s not Pokey Minch, he’s not that Porky, he’s just… something new. Something he can’t stand, but has yet to destroy. It’s disconnected from every identity he’s had and is supposed to have.

True to his word, Ness listens carefully to it all. Porky can sense when he starts to get upset at a variety of points, but especially towards the end. He can tell when his blood is boiling, because once again Porky is nothing but honest and that means admitting to killing. Admitting to abusing. Admitting to destroying everything. He’s not ashamed of it, even though he knows that he should be.

He just doesn’t.

When they’re done, Porky just stops and stares at Ness and waits for any sort of response, any at all.

All he gets is Ness mumbling, “You’re a monster.”

“You’re right.”

“Porky… get out of my house.”

Nods, and then Porky leaves without a fight, and sneaks back in to his mother’s house without alerting her or Prettyman.

So that’s life, huh?

* * *

Aloysius calls him a terror, a bastard, a mistake. It’s never easier at his apartment in Fourside than it is at home back in Onett. He likes to scream at Porky, but what else is new– though this time, Porky has so much less patience for it. He’s not interested in screaming back, but he always imagines what he can do. He’s spent centuries imagining all the ways he could have gotten back at his father for how he’d been treated, but now he almost feels too defeated to even try.

But Picky and Porky are at Aloysius’ apartment one weekend, and he doesn’t even really remember what the fight was about, but he tripped up Aloysius’ anger somehow and now he’s screaming again over nothing. It’s all just “you ruined my life,” something about their mother, and “I wish you hadn’t come back.” Picky just shrinks away from the noise and tries to crawl his way out of the fight, but it’s hard getting out of a storm like this one.

“Why should I even bother with you? All you do is drain my fuckin’ bank account with those stupid hospital bills and _therapy_ – like it even fuckin’ helps– and I get nothing in return. Nothing! You think I’m made of money, Pokey? You think I have money to waste?”

Aloysius is so close to Porky’s face, their noses almost touch. He’s red in the face with rage and a little drunkenness, and his breath stinks, but Porky doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. All he does is reply, “Considering you waste hundreds on alcohol a month–” but it’s interrupted by a hard slap across the face, open-palm. It stings, but Porky doesn’t register that, only reels back and slams his fist into his father’s jaw in response.

Something like anger is rising up rapidly in Porky and he grits his teeth and throws another punch into Aloysius’ eye this time. “ _You don’t hit your kids, you don’t hit your kids, you don’t_ –”

Picky is the one dragging him away from Aloysius, apparently having gained just enough spine to put an end to all of this. When Porky turns to Picky, he flinches, like he expects Porky to turn on _him_ next. And, for a second, Porky does consider it, but just because he needs to keep punching something, and there’s no targets left when Picky puts himself between the two except for him.

But he’s not going to hit Picky. Never in a million years would he hit Picky like that. He staggers backward and bumps into the wall behind him. His fist twitches. He turns and he slams his fist into the wall, cracking it and leaving a fist-shaped indent in the wall that they wouldn’t fix for years to come. It gets hidden by a generic photo of some forest somewhere instead, and despite how it tries to be forgotten, it always manages to be remembered.

He snatches a beer from Aloysius’ fridge and goes out to take a long walk he doesn’t come home from till the middle of the night. Aloysius doesn’t fight him– nor does he ever hit Porky again. Picky neither, but who knows what the bastard does when he’s not around. They don’t even talk anymore after that aside from brief hellos. Porky wouldn’t go at all if not for Lardna demanding some alone time with Prettyman.

Picky cringes around Porky for the next few months. He may not have struck Picky, nor had any intent to, but the message was clear. It shouldn’t hurt him, but it does. Neither of them ever talk about it.

* * *

People don’t change. They pretend that they do and hope that others like them more, but the insides can never be transformed. He’s growing, and notices how he’s getting too tall for his clothes far too fast. His nice suit he saved from when he first arrived here, all his other clothes are now completely useless to him, and they get donated away once he’s unable to fit in any of them for sure.

It’s like saying goodbye to an old friend. He was a late bloomer, but now Porky can’t stop growing like a weed and it’s annoying and frustrating because he already felt like an adult but he was still just a kid till now. He has to relearn how to grow facial hair and wait for his hair to turn back to white and his skin to wrinkle and discolor and that all comes with time that he’s getting fucking sick of, to be honest.

This is supposed to be a do-over, he grows and grows but his soul stays small and broken and ugly and everything just feels pointless. That’s the curse of humanity, to search for meaning until you find it or until you die. Porky never knew what living meant because living felt like background noise. Immortality didn’t mean living. It simply meant _not dead_ , and Porky was the perfect representation of that.

Now he has to pretend he’s human again when he really doesn’t feel like he is. Maybe it was supposed to come back to him, but it never did. It’s been a couple years, hardly any time at all, and perhaps with how long he’d lived before this, it’s just not enough time. But somehow despite being so young it feels like he’s running out of time to feel differently before his life finally extinguishes after several thousand millennia.

And he wonders– isn’t that what he wanted? How often did he hope he’d wake up and be mortal again so he could die? It must have been thousands of times, but now he has the chance and he’s too scared to do it. Oblivion and perfect nothing are almost more terrifying than empty eternity. To not exist would probably be pleasant, but to be dead would be his worst nightmare.

So he stares at himself in the mirror and his hair is clipped short enough for him to see his own eyes, but it’s still shaggy and unkempt as ever and his clothes are plain because Lardna won’t buy him expensive clothes till he’s done growing (not that she ever will to begin with) and he wonders when he’s supposed to feel right. Most always he’s just an empty husk, no “human” reaction to anything. People tend to find that the most frightening aspect of him and stay away. Some find it worse watching him accidentally hurt himself and have no reaction at all.

He remembers one day when he’s in his front yard helping John Prettyman fix the fence after a bad storm knocked part of it down. Porky’s trying to nail up a beam over the fence, but as he places the nail and goes to hammer it in, he catches his fingers instead. He doesn’t stop, just tries again, and slams his fingers a few more times. It takes John Prettyman ten minutes to notice that Porky’s broken three of his fingers in this way, bent completely out of shape and bleeding everywhere, staining the perfect white fence, and despite his best attempts to convince them otherwise, they’re on another trip to the ER.

Everyone always looks at him strange when he gets hurt, like he’s some sort of specimen. He always tells them that he’s felt worse pain, because it’s true. He’d get along just fine without medical attention– Lord knows he went without so many times before. Sometimes, he looks for cues to try and figure out how he’s supposed to react, but he can never quite bring himself to scream or freak out like expected.

Porky’s too used to physical pain, though sickness still drives him crazy. He gets called a hypochondriac for panicking about death when he gets a cold, but no one understands just how bad it could be. It’s pain he doesn’t mind; it's sickness that terrifies him. He can’t get sick again. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t… so whenever he does he tries to weasel his way into his mother’s liquor cabinet and drink until he’s not so afraid.

There had been a long hiatus where Porky never drank, never ate either because it made him too ill. But before that, he’d been an utter boozehound, and as much as he wanted to stay away from it, it was far too easy to lapse back into when both his parents drink. He waters down what he takes from Lardna, but openly steals bottles and cans away in front of Aloysius, who’s given up all attempts at actual parenting anyways.

But one weekend Porky slams the fridge shut with a beer in hand and Aloysius is draped over his ugly, uncomfortable brown couch in front of his shitty little TV and as Porky moves to take the open spot on the shitty, broken recliner, Aloysius says, “Alcoholism runs in our family, Pokey.” And Porky is halfway on pulling the tab atop the can, just halting at the first sound of it cracking open, and hesitates there with his index finger holding onto the tab while he stares over to his father.

“I know,” comes his reply, sounding defensive and awkward and terribly young when he thinks about his voice.

Aloysius scoffs. “I _know_ you know. But I’m telling you, my dad drank himself to death by the age of fifty-five. You remember him? Probably not, because he fuckin’ drank _to death_ , Pokey. And you know? I’ll probably drink myself to death too, and seeing how you’re starting way earlier than me, I bet you’ll die a whole lot sooner than I will.”

“No, I won’t.” Porky’s voice cracks slightly in an emotional objection. He’s managed to strike a nerve in Porky and it sends his stomach dropping in anxiety, his heart racing. He doesn’t even notice his hands shaking, the can trembling along with him. “No I _won’t_.”

“Pokey, it’s fine. It’s not like you’re going to die soon. Just sooner than usual. You’re like your old man, you know? Never knows when to quit and just keeps killing himself over and over and–”

“ _No!_ ”

The can drops to the floor, and the beer leaks out from it onto the carpet, one slow drip at a time. Aloysius growls and pulls himself off the couch, turning to Porky. He’s ready to charge, hands balled into fists, but Porky is curled up in a ball in the chair shaking and quietly sobbing. His father is much slower in approach, but he can hear Aloysius taking deliberate steps towards him till his large hand is resting on Porky’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna die,” Porky whimpers through choking sobs. His throat feels full and his lungs empty and he can’t ever seem to get enough breath. “I don’t wanna, but I’m g- I’m gonna– I can feel it–”

“Hey…” is Aloysius’ soft response as he leans over to get a better look at his son’s face, then sort of turns him over so they can face each other. Tears roll down Porky’s face in droves and he’s gasping for air with short, shallow breaths and he whimpers again when he sees his dad. Aloysius leans down to him, brushing a few hairs from Porky’s forehead. Then, he whispers, “You’re gonna die young and alone, Pokey. And no one’s ever gonna miss you.”

Aloysius stands back up straight, turns ‘round, and walks out with the door slamming behind him, while Porky stays curled up on that chair for God knows how long. He’s such a coward. There’s no reason to be scared of death or dying but it feels like the room is spinning and he hardly feels himself either but it feels like his body is just about to give out entirely and that terrifies him more than anything.

_I’m just a kid._

_It’s not fair_

_Not fair_

_Not fair…_


End file.
